


Tease

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Smut, plot tiwst? oh yes plot twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: Original Request: Can I request a Ramsay Bolton Smut where he thinks the reader is afraid of him but he catches the reader admitting her feelings for him to someone else?&Can I request Ramsay Snow smut? Like he knows the readers feelings for him and so he teases her about it? As usual no rush!^^





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I combined these because they were from the same person and they’re very similar <3

“Shhhhh! Seven hells, Lys! Shut up!” 

Ramsay’s ears perked up to the sound of your voice. He hadn’t heard his pretty bird sing all day. Where were you? What were you doing? Why were you telling Lys, another lord’s daughter, to shut up? 

Ramsay followed the sweet sound towards the Glass Garden. Lord Roose didn’t care much for it, but his new wife did. Lady Walda had taken up a new hobby of gardening. She enjoyed having a whole space just for herself. Something she never had growing up and something she was entirely grateful to Roose for.

Ramsay caught sight of your hair as you turned into the garden. Snow covered some of the glass roof, only letting in a limited amount of light. You and your friend, Lys, disappeared among the roses growing in abundance. 

Ramsay kept himself near the wall, hoping to hear more.

“…but you have to tell me!”

“…it’s too silly…father wouldn’t approve…I really like him.”

Ramsay’s chest tightened. Him? Who him? Had someone else been the object of your affections? His nostrils flared. He had been perfectly nice to you this entire time. As northern lords swore fealty to House Bolton, your family had stayed longer than most. Ramsay quite liked watching you walk around Winterfell in complete adoration.

He liked how you smiled at him when he spoke to you. He liked how you asked him to dance at the feast, and when he refused you danced anyways. He liked that you spent your time here admiring his house and his home. In truth, he liked your attention. If there was someone else who had your heart, Ramsay was almost ready to flay them until your affections faded.

“Alright! Alright!” Ramsay heard you say. He moved slowly among the thick green ferns. Leaves would brush his cheek as he quietly stepped deeper inside. 

“You have to promise you won’t tell!” you said. Lys nodded.  
“I promise! By the old and new dumb gods, come on! You fancy someone! Tell me already!” Lys said. Ramsay watched your cheeks burn and your fingers cover your mouth as if you were so burdened by your feelings that you couldn’t bear it. 

Ramsay held his breath. A dozen thoughts ran through his mind. Why did he care so much? Why did he so badly want your affections? Why did he need your approval? Why were his palms so damn sweaty? He wiped them on his pants when he heard you.

“It’s the new Lord’s son, Ramsay. I think he’s very nice.” Ramsay watched you smile and giggle with your friend.

“But he’s a bastard!” Lys noted. Ramsay’s eyes narrowed at the girl.

“I know. My lord father wouldn’t approve of his status, but I don’t think it matters. Does it? He is Roose’s son. He’ll be Lord of Winterfell one day, and maybe I’ll be his darling lady wife.” You twirled in your dress. Ramsay felt his stomach flip. Oh dear. He liked you.

Two days had passed and you had yet to admit your feelings for him. Ramsay grew impatient. After two days of bring in your presence, walking the dogs with you, speaking alone with you, and watching you from across the room. How you gave him the smallest of smiles and said nothing.

He had enough.

Ramsay turned his flaying knife in his hand as he followed you down the hallway. You were slowly pacing, trying to memorize a new southern song you just learned. Ramsay had no problem interrupting your sweet humming. Your wrists were against the cold wall before you could register what was happening. You blinked to make sure you saw exactly who was in front of you.

His cold-colored eyes bore into you. Waiting. There was a lot you could say, but you only said,

“My lord?” 

“That’s all? My lord?” Ramsay chuckled. Ramsay placed his leg in between yours, folding up your dress. His chest coming close to your own. You wanted to crumble under him, but another part of you stayed in your spot. Your eyes held his. You wanted to see where this was going.

See, your family wasn’t as honorable as the Starks. While Ned Stark ruled, your family’s relevance in the North diminished. Ned Stark exiled Jorah Mormont for selling raiders that much was known. Jorah never shared that he was selling them to your family. Your father and grandfather had gathered together a powerful, but small army of slaves.

You grew up spitting in the faces of those who had to serve you. Some days you were bored and toyed with your septas or handmaidens. You liked catching them in the act with a lover, and then separating them just for entertainment. Once, you remember a septa giving you the worst death threat. She detailed how she desired to choke you until your eyes bled. You smiled when her daughter’s neck swung on a rope.

You had heard of the Mad Dog. Ramsay Bolton was sloppy, in your personal opinion. If word of his vicious behavior reached you, he wasn’t doing a good job keeping it from the other honorable families left in the North. Your favorite tale was how he managed to capture Theon Greyjoy and shrink him down to a thing. 

The Bolton family met your family with all of the political kindness your families could muster, but you were much better at this game than your family. Your family donned you as the ‘Queen Margaery’ of the North. Kind, patient, and generous.

But a snake slithered just under the surface, like the Queen.

You smiled and waved at the bastard only to met with shared, intense looks. A small, but kind conversation or two. It annoyed you. You heard a Bolton soldier retelling the story of how Ramsay castrated Theon Greyjoy. This kind, boring boy disappointed you.

However.

As Ramsay’s hands tightened around your wrists, his nostrils flared. He was very, very annoyed with you. 

“You think you can walk around here, looking at me the way you do, and all you have to say is my lord? I heard you.”

“Heard me?” a smile hid in your tone.

“Oh yes. With your boring friend, Lysa.”

“Lys.”

“Does it fucking matter what her name is?” Ramsay’s nose was inches from yours. You shook your head no. Ramsay smirked. “I heard what you said about me. How you so desperately want to be my darling wife.”

You smiled. He did hear you. He must have spied on you himself. Any servant would have twisted the words to him. 

“Well?” Ramsay said.

“Well?”

“What are we going to do about this, my lady?” Ramsay’s lips almost brushed yours, leaving gooseflesh on your skin. “What kind of lord husband would I be if I left my darling lady wife hungry? Hm?”  
Then you felt it. The blade pressing against your throat. Oh. He was good. You didn’t even see the blade coming. There he is. Here is the vicious boy you heard about.

You bit his bottom lip and kept kissing him. He slammed you into the wall, keeping up the pace with you. His leg between your thighs left you and was replaced by his hands finding the laces in your dress. It wasn’t fast enough. You hiked up your dress and felt Ramsay warm fingers curl into your parts. 

You joined him with enthusiasm and pulled him closer to you. Your hands balanced on his chest while his hands made good work down there. As he increased the speed, you moaned louder.

“Shush, sweet girl, do you want your lord father to witness our bedding ceremony?” Ramsay whispered in your ear. “Unless that’s what you want. For me to fuck you in front of everyone.”

Ramsay’s fingers left you and guided your hand to his parts. He was thicker than you imagined and harder than you could believe. His hand guided yours up and down his member. He kissed you in between strokes. 

He placed his member at your opening. As he slowly put it inside you, he watched your eyes widen. His mouth opened, revealing all of his teeth and terror. “Oh? You’re a virgin. How perfect of you to save yourself for me.”

He began fucking you against the wall. He lifted your legs and wrapped it around himself to get deeper inside of you. Your fingers wrapped around any fabric on his chest. You heard his sleeves starting to rip when he pounded you against the wall. His hips kept pace as he ripped through your hole. 

“Look at me.” He pulled your hair back. Your eyes widened again. Breathing harder and harder each time he went in. “Tell me I ruined you.”

“You-you ruined me,” you said. Your eyebrows knitted while you moaned. Your mouth bit down on the leather on his chest. Ramsay pounded you into the wall once more. His whole body going into yours. You felt his member tremble inside of you. His mouth was on yours, biting down your lip. You tasted blood.

Ramsay pulled away from you, leaving a trail of his seed from your parts to the ground.

“You’re mine now,” Ramsay smirked. “And you’ll give me an heir.”


End file.
